


Lay Down Your Bets, Fool Boys

by howitshouldbe



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Baseball, Gen, parentdale, teen parentdale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howitshouldbe/pseuds/howitshouldbe
Summary: FP Jones makes a bet with Mary Moore that the guys can beat the girls at a baseball game. The stakes are high for everyone, but Fred Andrews quickly finds that he has more to lose than anyone.





	1. The Stakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> I made up Marilyn's maiden name (Klein) as well as Tanya's (Reid) and Mrs. Muggs' first and last (Robin Dinklehof). Dinklehof was originally Ethel's last name in the comics, so I paid homage to it here. The other names are taken from fandom headcanons. (This was started before season 3 aired, so some names are now different from canon. However, I've kept them consistent with how I started.)
> 
> Title is a combination of lyrics from Bruce Springsteen songs: "Roll of the Dice" and "Glory Days"

Summertime in Riverdale has always been a beautiful sight. By mid June, temperatures are warm but comfortable, and a gentle breeze carries the sounds of Sweet Water River across Pickens Park. With kids off school, Pop's is always busy and he sells twice as many milkshakes during the warm summer months than any other time of year.

Pop's milkshakes are a commodity among Riverdale's teens. It seems that the more you were able to drink during the summer, the higher your social status. Because of this, dates always consist of Pop's shakes, victories are celebrated with a tall glass of extra thick strawberry, and bets are made with double chocolate and whipped cream as the winnings.

One early summer evening, while celebrating a Bulldogs' baseball victory at Pop's, several of Riverdale's teens made the biggest milkshake bet Pop's had ever seen.

"No way," FP exclaimed, slamming his empty glass down on the table so hard Alice thought for sure he'd cracked it. "You couldn't beat us if your life depended on it."

"Wanna bet?" Mary fired back. If the table wasn't between them, she would have been right in FP's face.

"Freddie Andrews is the best baseball player Riverdale has ever seen. He could clean your clocks from the mound _without_ the rest of us behind him. Let alone all of us against all of you."

"Well I say you're wrong. Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, FP Jones?"

Up until that point, Fred had been with FP all the way. The smile on his face could have lit up half of Riverdale. He loved hearing FP talk about how good of player he was, even if he was just saying he was better than a bunch of girls. As soon as Mary mentioned a bet though, his demeanor instantly changed. He was trying to save his money and he knew FP didn't have much to spare either. Even without knowing what kind of bet Mary was talking about, he knew she was mad enough to take them for all they're worth. Not that he was afraid to lose, but he didn't like where this was going.

"What do you have in mind?" FP shot back with a cocky grin.

Mary looked over at Alice, who had been egging her on the same as Fred had been with FP. The two girls whispered in the other's ears for several moments before turning back to the boys.

"One milkshake a week for every person on the winning team until school starts," Mary said matter-of-factly.

"NO WAY," Fred exclaimed shaking his head vigorously. "Who do you think we are? I don't have that kind of money!"

When he looked over at FP and saw the gleam in his eye, he knew they were in trouble. FP never backs down from a fight and would surely not back down from a sports bet with girls. Before Fred could stop him, FP's hand was extended across the table and he was shaking Mary's.

"You might want to ask your bosses about raises," FP warned them, "because I plan to get double whipped cream and chocolate bits on every single one of mine."

"We... we should probably set some ground rules," Fred said shakily. He was scared enough, but when he saw Hermione walk in the door, his heart seized.

"What's going on?" she asked as she slipped into the booth next to Fred.

"You're on the wrong side," Alice informed her.

"They're the enemy now," Mary agreed, sliding closer to Alice to make room for Hermione at the end.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, grabbing Fred's shake and taking a big sip.

"FP just bet a summer's worth of milkshakes that we can beat you at a baseball game..." Fred sighed. He folded his arms on the table and dropped his head into them.

Hermione looked across the table at the girls, who were starring back with grimaces on their faces. She had no choice. Solidarity is everything. She stood, taking Fred's shake with her, and sat back down on the other side of the table.

"What are the terms?" she asked very businesslike.

Mary took a pen and paper out of her bag and the five of them drew up the agreement. Something this significant definitely needed written down. By the time everything was decided, Fred was sick to his stomach. FP had done most of the talking and agreed that they would keep the winnings to basic shakes only; no extras. Everyone on the losing team would pitch in to buy the winners' shakes and Pop agreed to keep track of everyone's weekly payment. He was sure this would help break his summer shake record by at least a dozen.

"Well it's all settled now but the teams," Mary said, folding the paper and slipping it into her bag.

"We won't have any trouble finding guys looking for free milkshakes. Right, Fred?" FP laughed.

Fred looked up at Hermione, who was glaring at him from across the table.

"Probably not, FP," he sighed.

"I guess we'll see you on Saturday," Alice said as the girls slipped out of the booth.

"Bring your money," FP called after them. "I expect my first shake as soon as the game's over!"

The ring of the bell on Pop's door signaled the girls' exit.

"This is going to be the best summer ever," FP breathed, leaning back in the booth.

Fred did the same, but he was far less confident about the grandeur of the months ahead.

* * *

The next morning, Fred was on his way back from getting Bunny a loaf of bread at the store when Hermione flagged him down from across the street. Normally he would have crossed over to her side of the road a block sooner to make sure she saw him coming, but today he was trying to actively avoid her. All the girls in town were now off limits thanks to FP's bet and being seen talking to the enemy would have been treason.

When he saw that beautiful dark brown hair blowing in the afternoon breeze, and her hand shoot up as soon as she saw him, he felt the front wheel of his bike turn all on its own, pulling him to her. She flashed him a bright smile as he stopped a few feet from where she stood.

"What's up?" Fred asked her as nonchalantly as he could muster.

"We're having trouble scrounging up enough gloves for the game on Saturday," Hermione admitted. "I thought maybe you might have an old one lying around that we could borrow."

When Fred hesitated, she added, "If you don't that's ok...I think this whole thing is dumb anyway."

"Really?" Fred said, surprised. He thought for sure Hermione was all for it. She seemed to be at Pop's last night anyway.

"We don't have a chance with you playing. If the guys didn't have you, then we'd kill them for sure, but..."

She looked up into Fred's eyes and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

"Well I won't be playing at my max anyway," Fred assured her calmly.

"Why not? You aren't hurt are you?" Every bit of Hermione's body language oozed concern from her frown and drawn eyes to the half step she took toward him.

"Nahh," Fred laughed, eating up her worry. "I just don't want to overdo it before our game next week."

"Oh, thank god," Hermione breathed. "Well that might make things a little more fair. If you don't play at 100%, we might just have a small chance."

"Maybe," Fred laughed, running his hand through his hair.

"I was thinking," Hermione said, taking the last few steps that remained between her and Fred. "If we win, maybe you could buy me my weekly shake after a trip to the drive-in some Saturday."

Fred's knees almost buckled and, if he hadn't been half sitting on his bike, he would have probably fallen over. He'd been trying to figure out how to ask Hermione on a proper date for months now, and here she was practically asking him.

"Shh, sure," he finally blurted out.

 "Promise? If we win, you'll take me to a movie?" Hermione smiled, placing her hand on the back of Fred's bike seat.

"Absolutely," Fred agreed, smiling ear to ear. She was standing so close to him now he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo in the summer air.

"Good," she whispered, before stepping back. "I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Yeah. See ya Saturday," Fred whispered back. He watched her walk down to the corner before he rode away.

He was in his driveway before he realized what he'd just done. His shot at a date with Hermione Reyes was now dependent on him losing the game.


	2. First Inning

The late-morning sun shone brightly through the trees of Pickens Park on game day. Fred Andrews whipped his bike into the lot and parked it in the rack behind the equipment shed as he made his way to the dugout where FP and Hal were already waiting.

"What took you so long?" FP demanded.

Fred tossed his bag down on the bench and began digging through it. "I couldn't find my other glove."

When he pulled out an old, tattered, dirty fielder's mitt, Hal scowled. "What's that?"

"It's a ball glove, Hal," Fred retorted.

"Not much of one," Hal snapped back. "Where's your other one?"

"I'm not letting Hiram use my good glove!"

"You have that black one you used before your dad got you your good one for Christmas last year," FP said. "Where's that one?"

"I told you. I couldn't find it," Fred sighed, shoving the tattered glove into FP's chest before grabbing the bucket of balls and heading to the field.

"What's up with him?" Hal asked.

FP just shrugged and watched Fred position himself on the mound to throw a few pitches at the fence.

The rest of the guys' team trickled in over the course of the next fifteen minutes. The Bulldogs' regular summer league baseball team wasn't bad, thanks mostly to Fred, but not all of them were willing to give up their one free Saturday to play a pickup game. Not even for the chance of free milkshakes. Because of this, the guys were forced to take anyone they could get.

When Hiram Lodge finally arrived, almost a half hour later than FP had told him to, he didn't leave them much time to get him ready. Hiram was fit, and an excellent wrestler, but his baseball skills weren't quite up to the level FP was looking for.

"It's a good thing we've already got this game in the bag," he whispered to Fred in passing after spending time trying to teach Hiram how to bat.

Fred forced a weak laugh and hoped Hiram's lack of experience would mean less he'd have to do to even the odds.

"Where are the girls?" Hal asked when they all returned to their dugout. "Do you think they decided to just forfeit?"

"Nah. I saw them over at Mary's on my way here. They've been practicing there all week. I bet they roll in at the last minute," Jerry Mason informed them.

Just as he was finishing his sentence, the sound of booming music could be heard coming up the road. They were still a good half mile away when Fred saw Alice's dad's pickup full of nine girls blearing "Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun" and singing at the top of their lungs.

"They're nuts," FP yelled.

The girls were now in the parking lot and the music was so loud Fred could barely hear FP even though he was standing right next to him.

Alice stayed in the truck while the others jumped off the tailgate, dancing and belting out the last few lines while they gathered up their equipment. As the song ended, Alice shut off the truck, slung her bag over her shoulder, and made her way to where the guys were standing. Hal's mouth was hanging open slightly and Harry Clayton punched him in the arm hard to get him to shut it.

"Ready to lose, boys?" she asked, popping a huge bubblegum bubble in FP's face.

"We're ready to kick your ass," FP retorted.

Hal had to consciously force himself not to shove past Harry to clobber FP in the nose for talking to Alice that way. The girls might be the enemy today, but he didn't think such language was warranted.

"The umpires aren't here yet," he spoke up softly. "We'll start soon though, if you want to get settled in."

Alice smiled at him sweetly before shooting a glare at the others and pushing her way between them to head toward the girls' dugout.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Cooper?" FP asked once Alice was out of earshot.

"I'm just trying to show good sportsmanship," Hal protested.

FP rolled his eyes. "Whatever... Where's Doiley?"

"I told him to be here by 10:00," Tom Keller said as he approached. "Pop Tate just got here."

"We may have to start without him," Fred sighed, taking off his ball hat and running his fingers through his hair before putting it back on his head.

He was ready to have this whole thing over.

Pop Tate had the kids flip a coin to see who was going to take the field first. FP, Fred, Mary, and Alice met him at the plate.

"Ladies, what'll it be?" Pop asked.

"Heads," Mary said with a nod to Alice as though this had been previously decided.

"Alrightly," Pop replied as he flipped the coin. Catching it in the air and placing it on the back of his hand, he revealed that it had in fact come up heads.

"Home, please," Mary informed Pop sweetly.

"Go ahead and take the field then," Pop instructed with a gesture toward the pitcher's mound.

The girls trotted off to get their gloves, greeted by whoops and cheers from their teammates who were even more fired up than before thanks to their coin toss victory.

"Sorry I'm late," Kenny Doiley panted as he approached the fence next to the boys' dugout. He was carrying a large cardboard box. "I... forgot the key... to the shed.... Needed to get... the score numbers..."

"You could have just used a piece of paper, Kenny," Jerry Mason informed him.

"If I'm not going to get to play," Kenny retorted, "I'm at least going to keep proper score."

"Fair enough," FP said, motioning for the other guys to come closer. Kenny took off to get set up at the scoreboard and the boys' team huddled around FP. "We lost the coin toss, so we're up first. Which is fine. It'll be one less thing the girls have to complain about when we smoke 'em."

All the guys laughed. Except Fred.

"Freddie is gonna lead off. When he gets on," with this, FP nudged Fred in the side with his elbow before continuing, "Mantle will come in and bunt if possible. I bet they put Marilyn on third so you're going to have to hustle if you're gonna make it on. Next up will be me, then Harry batting cleanup. Cooper, you're fifth. Sixth is Jerry, then Tom, then Myles, then Hiram."

"Why am I last?" Hiram protested.

"Someone has to be," Rick Mantle said, slapping him on the back.

This didn't make Hiram feel any better, but he guessed he'd rather bat last than be out sorting numbers by the scoreboard with Doiley.

As the girls took the field, Fred saw that FP's prediction was correct; Marilyn Klein was on third. Tanya Reid took her place in left field, Mary at shortstop, Sierra Samuels in center field, Gladys Cohen on second, Alice on first, and Penelope Parker in right field.

Fred was surprised when he didn't see Hermione jogging out to right. That's usually the spot you reserve for your least experienced player, as not many balls get hit to right field. Penelope didn't have much more experience than Hermione, but he figured Alice would have wanted Penelope somewhere else for her speed.

When he saw Robin Dinklehof come out in catcher's gear, he wasn't at all surprised. She was on the girls' softball team and could probably throw him out stealing second easily, though he'd never admit it out loud and hoped he'd not find out for sure today.

There must be some sort of mixup, though. All the positions were full now except the mound, and the girls only had one player left.

"No way," Fred breathed as he watched Hermione step up to the rubber.

She tightened her hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail that swung behind her out of a blue baseball cap, and lined herself up. Robin put her glove in position, Hermione took a deep breath, and threw her first warm-up pitch.

The ball hit the mitt with a snap and the guys' dugout was dead silent. After three more pitches, each one right down the center and just as hard as the first, FP stepped out of the dugout and walked over to Fred in the on-deck circle.

"Did you know she could throw like that?"

"I didn't even think she knew which hand the glove goes on," Fred admitted.

"Well you're going to have to get in there and knock one to the fence," FP whispered to him. "The guys are shook and we can't afford for them to wimp out."

"Got it," Fred assured him with a nod. FP slapped him on the back and headed over to give a pep talk to Rick, who was up after Fred.

Hermione took a few more practice throws, only dropping one of Robin's return throws, and then Pop called for Fred to step up.

"Here we go," Fred breathed to himself as he made his way to the batter's box.

He was set, focused on the ball, ready to knock it out of the park just like FP said he had to, until he caught Hermione's eye. He could have sworn she winked at him! Did she wink at him? A huge smile spread across his face as he contemplated the thought. Hermione Reyes, the most beautiful girl he'd ever--

"Strike one!" Pop's booming voice rang out.

"What?" Fred exclaimed, stepping out of the box and looking around.

"You gotta swing the bat to hit the ball, son," Pop told him.

"I... I didn't..."

"Come ooon, Freddie," FP called from the dugout. "Get back in there and smash it."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, taking a couple swings before stepping back in the box.

This time, he was so worried about how he could have let that first pitch go by that he swung late and pulled the ball down the third base line. Marilyn easily fielded it and threw it hard to Alice on first. Fred was running as fast as he could, knowing if he didn't at least get on base he'd hear it for sure from FP, but he wasn't quick enough to beat Marilyn's throw. Rocky, Pop's weekday fry cook, was serving as their base umpire and called Fred out immediately.

None of the guys said a word as he made his way to the back of the dugout and sat down. FP was giving Rick Mantle silent signals not to bunt now, and Rick nodded his understanding as he made his way to the plate.

Fred felt like throwing up. He should have called FP this morning and told him he had tuberculosis or something and couldn't make it. Of course FP would never believe he was sick. Fred faked illnesses all the time to get out of school and he knew FP wouldn't buy it. Besides, nothing short of the bubonic plague would make him miss any kind of baseball game, and FP knew that too.

Hermione put one over Rick's head the first pitch, which Robin snagged like a pro, but the second was right down the center and Rick Mantle was ready for it. He hit a nice line drive right past Mary at shortstop and it landed halfway between her and Sierra. Even with her rocket of an arm, there was no way Sierra could get the ball to Alice in time to beat Rick. With one runner on, FP Jones was up to bat.

After Rick's big hit, Fred was starting to forget his disaster of an at-bat. As he made his way to the plate, FP started flexing his muscles and pointing out over Sierra's head for the fence in a Babe Ruth fashion. The girls were dramatically rolling their eyes and a loud boo could be heard from the direction of first base.

"Come on, FP!!" the guys all cheered. "Show 'em what ya got!"

Even Fred was standing at the fence now. Baseball wasn't FP's preferred game. Football was more his style, but he was known to really get a hold of one in pickup games and it wasn't uncommon for him to hit one over the fence a few times a summer.

He wiped his upper lip on the neckline of his white cut-off tshirt as he stepped into the batter's box.

"Do your worst, Reyes," FP challenged.

"Oh, she will," Robin whispered from behind him.

FP couldn't see, but Robin had given her the signal to throw the only special pitch Hermione had learned. It wasn't completely accurate or consistent, but they were sure it would work often enough that the guys would never be able to hit it.

Hermione nodded at the signal, a huge smile sweeping across her face. She began her wind up, released the ball, and watched it sail straight down the center. FP took a step and twisted, ready to crush the ball he felt Hermione had lobbed in perfectly for him. Suddenly, when the ball should have been making contact with his bat, it had disappeared. He followed through, but there was no familiar crack of a home-run swing.

Fred couldn't believe his eyes. Hermione had thrown the most beautiful curveball he had ever seen. He himself had tried his hand at curveballs once or twice, but stuck more to fastballs, sliders, and changeups. Whoever taught Hermione how to throw really knew their stuff because that pitch takes months if not years to perfect.

When Pop Tate called the strike, FP shot him a nasty "no fucking kidding" look and took a few practice swings before stepping back in. Fred was worried. FP can hit the ball like a beast when he focuses, but now that he's mad and at least a little embarrassed, he could be reckless.

The next pitch was on the outside corner. FP didn't swing and Pop Tate called the strike.

"He's getting mad," Fred breathed.

"I can't watch," Jerry Mason said, covering his face with his hands.

"Keep your eye on it," Hal called from the dugout doorway.

FP glared at him and Fred thought, if looks could kill, they'd be needing a new third baseman.

Stepping back into the box, FP was ready this time. With two strikes against him, he was determined to make this pitch count. If Hermione had enough control, she should have probably tried to get him to chase another outside pitch, but instead the ball ended up a bit low and much slower than intended. It was the pitch FP had been hoping for. He crushed it out to center field. It was over Sierra's head and it fell behind her before she could get under it. Picking it up, she got it to Mary quickly. If Rick wouldn't have been greedy, he would have been easily safe at second. His excitement got the better of him though and Marilyn tagged him sliding into third.

Hal gave him a sympathetic slap on the back as he came into the dugout. That was two outs. FP was still on first, playing it safe and not getting into a jam trying to follow Rick around for an extra base. With Harry Clayton up, this at-bat might be their last shot at scoring this inning.

Harry was on Fred's summer league team and was a great all-around player, but he'd been in a hitting slump the last few games. Fred told him this game against the girls might be exactly what he needed to get him back on track. Stepping up to the plate, Harry could feel his palms sweating. Not hitting in a regular game was bad enough. Striking out against Hermione Reyes of all people would make him the laughing stock of the team.

When the first pitch came across the plate below his knees, Harry let out a deep sigh. By the third ball, he was honestly hoping for a walk. Let Hal be the deciding at-bat. As the fourth pitch approached him, he knew he shouldn't swing. Take the walk, he told himself. But as it came closer, he found himself swinging hard. The familiar crack rang out as he watched the ball fly past Hermione.

Running as fast as he could, he had no idea where the ball had landed. Without a base coach to tell him what to do, he rounded the bag just in time to see Mary lob the ball to Gladys at second. FP was out.

"That's three!!" Robin cheered from behind the plate. The girls were so excited, they all ran to the mound and jumped up and down together with Hermione in the middle.

"You have got to be kidding me," FP moaned, looking over his shoulder at the girls. "You'd think they just one the World Series."

"We didn't score..." Hiram pointed out.

"No kidding?" FP retorted. "I hadn't noticed, Lodge. Thanks for clearing that up."

"Alright, guys. It's just the first inning," Fred reminded them. "They aren't going to score either and we'll get 'em in the next one."

Hal was nodding enthusiastically, but the others still seemed discouraged. They started sulking out to their positions until Fred yelled at them that they should be "showing some hustle," a favorite phrase of Coach Kleats's.

Fred knew he had to pull out all the stops or his guys were going to fall apart before the game ever really started. Luckily, the girls didn't set up their lineup the way the boys did with their best players at the top. First up was poor Penelope Parker. Alice and Mary had obviously been working with her, because she knew how to stand and hold the bat, but she'd never played the game in her life and had no idea what she was doing before last week.

FP didn't even bother giving Fred any signals from behind the plate. Fred lobbed her easy pitches and she just blindly swung at terrible ones or didn't swing at strikes at all. Three pitches later she was headed back to the bench just glad she didn't get hit by the ball.

Next up was Alice. She was a power hitter and Fred knew it. If he gave her anything close she was going to crunch it out to Rick Mantle in center field. Sure enough, despite his best efforts, Alice got a hold of his second pitch and the ball was flying over everyone's heads. Rick did his best to get under it, but he lost it in the sun and it landed several feet to his right. He picked it up and shot it to Harry at shortstop, but they didn't get it in fast enough and Alice had sped her way to second base.

When she stood, her knees were all dirty from sliding and a bit of blood was forming on her shin. Against Alice's wishes, Penelope ran her out a Kleenex and she used it to wipe up the blood before they continued.

 Marilyn stepped into the box and watched one low pitch go by before she, too, made contact and pulled one down the third base line to Hal. Hal fielded the ball easily and rocketed it to Tom who just barely caught it in time to make the out.

With one down, Fred felt confident that he could turn this game around. He hadn't forgotten about his conversation with Hermione, but he didn't want to lose. Maybe Hermione would go out with him even if the guys won.

Seeing Mary Moore saunter up to the plate made Fred's stomach churn. She didn't look it, but she was known to be able to hit any ball that crossed the plate. FP gave Fred signal after signal and he shook every one of them off. He had to give her straight fastballs as low and outside as he dared or she'd pull them over Hal's head for sure. Three pitches in and Mary had watched four crappy pitches go by.

"One more like that and you'll walk her, Fred," Hiram called from right field.

FP shook his head, stood, and walked up to Fred on the mound.

"He's fulla all kinds of great information today," he laughed, gesturing toward Hiram.

"You're the one who wanted him over Kenny," Fred reminded him.

FP just rolled his eyes. "What are ya gonna do here, Freddie? Why won't you throw her any junk?"

"She'll crush it. I know for a fact she can hit sliders and change ups no problem. She tracks them."

"Well she's not going for low and outside either," FP pointed out.

"Let's go!" Mary called from the plate. "Or just bring me the ball and I'll toss it up myself."

"Relax," FP called over his shoulder.

"She's right, Mr. Jones," Pop agreed. "Let's keep things moving. We've got a long way to go."

"One more second, Pop," Fred answered. "I'm fine," he assured FP. "I know what I'm doing."

FP nodded, although he didn't seem too confident, and made his way back to the plate. Mary stuck her tongue out at him as he knelt down behind her.

"How classy," FP said.

"You'll see how classy I am in a second," Mary answered, blowing a bubble with her gum.

When the pitch came, she wound up and popped it out to Myles in left field. Myles played a bit of baseball when they were younger, but was focusing more on music now so his skills were a bit rusty. He started moving forward way too soon and had to backtrack to get to the ball. By the time he got to it, Alice was rounding third and headed for home.

Myles hit his cutoff at shortstop, but Harry missed his chance to get Mary at second. The girls were up one nothing and had a second run in scoring position.

"How's that for class, FP?" Mary yelled up to him.

FP was already fuming at the scored run and that dig didn't make things any better. With Sierra up next, he knew she had wheels and that they were going to need all the help they could get.

"Back up, Myles. You too, Rick," he called to his outfielders. "Hiram, you come in a bit closer and back up a throw to first."

"What?" Hiram yelled from right field.

"Oh my ghod," FP sighed.

Pop Tate let out a small chuckle.

"IF THE BALL COMES TO YOU, FALL ON IT!" FP bellowed. "JUST THROW YOURSELF IN FRONT OF IT!"

"I... umm... I don't think I..." Hiram called back.

"Just take a few steps in," Tom turned and told him. "Put your hands on your knees so you look ready, and pay attention so you don't get clocked."

Hiram did as he was told, but the thought that getting clocked was actually a possibility made him nervous. Having his hands on his knees helped keep the sun out of his eyes though, so it was a win/win.

With all of the adjustments made, Sierra stepped up and dug her shoe into the dirt. During practices at Mary's, Alice had taught her how to stand in the box to get the most power out of her swing and Sierra was ready to test this out on one of Fred's fastballs. She was in luck because he threw one right out of the gate and she watched it sail upward for a second before dropping her bat and flying down the base line.

Rounding first, to her dismay Sierra saw Rick Mantle catch her fly ball. Mary had managed to tag up at second, but made the risky move of heading for third anyway and Hal was waiting there for her with the ball. She slid, but it was no use. He tagged her and made the last out of the inning.

The boys were hollering and high-fiving both Rick for the catch and Hal for the tag. The girls, though upset about the double play, were proud of Mary for trying and ecstatic that they were able to score a run when the boys hadn't.

Kenny Doiley marked the score for the inning and sat back down in the grass to await his next opportunity to be useful.

"We can't have another inning like that," FP said as he pulled off his chest protector.

"Tell me about it," Fred sighed. "I don't know what those girls have been doing at Mary's, but I'd swear they had some pro there teaching 'em how to play."

"Well it's a good thing we've our own pro," FP smiled, bumping Fred with his hip as he slid past him into the dugout.

" _Yeah_ ," Fred thought, " _but pros don't have to hit against Hermione Reyes._ "


	3. Second Inning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic before season 3 aired, so some of the names no longer fit with the show. However, I kept this consistent with the ones I used at the beginning.

"Psst, Hal," FP called through the fence as Hal took his practice swings to start the second inning. "Hal!"

Staring off in the direction of first base, Hal was casually swinging his bat thinking about how beautiful Alice's hair looked in the summer sun. Did it remind him more of sunflowers or dandelions? Sunflowers. They're pretty. But dandelions are too. They--

"HAL COOPER!"

"What?!"

"Would you come over here, please, so I can speak to you?" FP asked in a sarcastic, sing-songy voice.

Hal threw his bat onto his shoulder and ambled over to the dugout fence.

"What's up, FP?" he asked.

"First of all, if you don't get your head in the game, Hermione is gonna ring you up."

"My head _is_ in the game, FP," Hal protested. "I was just focused on timing the pitches."

"Yeah? Well I'd buy that if the pitches were coming from first base," FP chuckled.

Hal blushed.

"We just wanted to tell you to keep an eye out for that curveball," Fred explained, trying to ease Hal's embarrassment. "It may have been a fluke, but if you're not ready for it you're gonna be in trouble."

"Thanks, Fred," Hal replied genuinely. "I'll try my best."

FP was about to speak, probably to say something less than encouraging, but Fred cut him off.

"You'll do fine, Hal. You've got this."

Hal had time for one more solid practice swing before Pop called him to the plate.

"He's gonna whiff," FP moaned, pressing his face against the fence.

"He's gonna be fine," Fred disagreed. "He's a good ball player. He's gonna be fine."

The first pitch of the second inning was inside. Hal held off and took the ball. The second pitch was slower than he anticipated and he fouled it off over Robin's head. With one strike now, Fred had a feeling Hermione might try her curve again. He tried to pick up on Robin's signals, but she was too good to read.

Sure enough, the third pitch looked like it was coming right down the center and then at the last minute it broke and dropped. Hal looked like he was going to go for it, but pulled back and sighed with relief as he heard Pop call it a ball.

"That a boy, Hal!" Fred yelled, clapping along with the rest of the guys in the dugout.

"Coop _was_ paying attention after all," FP remarked with a slight smile.

Fred laughed. "I told you!"

"Well he's not on yet. There's still plenty of time for him to screw it up."

Fred just shook his head. He knew FP complimenting Hal, even in the slightest, would be short lived.

This was it. Fred had a feeling this pitch was going to be right in there and Hal was going to need to club it to get on. He was far from out of shape, but Hal was definitely not built for running. If he was going to have any chance of making to first, he was going to have to clear the infield or the girls were going to get him for sure.

Fred couldn't help but close his eyes as the pitch came in. When the crack of the bat echoed in the dugout, he threw them open quickly and began scanning the sky for the ball.

"Where'd it go? Where'd it go?" he yelled, linking his fingers in the fence and jumping up and down.

"I don't know!" FP yelled back, looking around frantically himself. "RUN, COOPER! RUN!"

Hal had his head down, plowing toward first with all his might. The guys in the dugout were watching the girls for some sign of movement to tell them where the ball had gone. Sierra and Tanya were moving toward each other and then Tanya called Sierra off.

"OH NO! SHE'S GONNA CATCH IT!" Jerry bellowed.

"NO SHE'S NOT! IT'S GONNA LAND BE--" Rick threw his hand over Hiram's mouth before he could finish the sentence.

Just as Hiram thought, Tanya misjudged the ball and it came down another few feet closer to the fence.

Hal, who was still running, rounded first just as Jerry yelled that she was going to catch it. If he'd been listening, he may have slowed down. He was so focused on getting as many bases as possible, though, he slid right under Gladys's tag at second.

Through the cheers for Hal, FP tried to get Jerry's attention in the on-deck circle. "Jerry," he whispered. "How do you feel about a hit-and-run?"

"What's a hit-and-run?" Hiram asked, a lot louder than FP would have liked.

"Shut up and watch, Hiram. You might learn something. Can you do it, Mason?"

Jerry nodded. Now all FP had to do was get Hal's attention so he could communicate the plan with him.

Hal was standing on second brushing off the legs of his pants now covered in dirt from his slide. Even though these were old pants, he was still sort of afraid he'd hear it from his mother for getting them so dirty. When he saw Alice looking in his direction, he felt his cheeks blush again. He was sweaty and hot from running, so he was pretty sure no one could tell, but he lowered his gaze just in case.

FP was doing everything short of jumping up and down and yelling Hal's name to get his attention, but it was no use. By this point, Jerry had already stepped up to the plate and it was too late to call off the hit-and-run.

"This is gonna be a disaster," FP sighed, slapping his hand to his forehead.

"Not if Hal stays put," Fred reminded him. "If he doesn't run, things could still be fine."

FP kept his face in his hand, shaking his head over and over.

When Jerry hit the ball right up the center of the infield, Hal waited just like he should have. The problem was, Alice missed Mary's throw to first so when Jerry rounded first to keep going, Hal wasn't moving.

"GO!!" Jerry hollered, halfway between first and second now. "RUN, HAL!!"

To this day no one knows exactly what took Hal's attention away from the task at hand. Fred always thought it may have had something to do with the fact that Alice bent over to pick up the missed throw. In any case, Jerry was stuck. He couldn't go to second because Hal was still standing there and by the time he came to, Alice had the ball and was prepared to throw him out at third. It was a classic pickle.

At one point both Hal and Jerry were standing on second shoving each other to try to get the other to run. Eventually, Jerry won and Hal was forced to make his way to third. Alice threw the ball to Marilyn who was standing at the ready to tag Hal. When he turned back to second, she threw it back to Mary at shortstop who ran toward Hal to chase him back to third. The girls had clearly practiced this maneuver because they had the pattern down perfectly. If Hal wasn't so determined not to screw up, they would have probably gotten him easily. As it was, after about three or four times of turning around and going back to second, Hal just put his head down and plowed toward third.

"He's gonna run her over!" FP yelled. "That's the face he makes in practice when he's about to take out a linebacker!"

Marilyn saw him coming and thought for sure he'd either slide or slow up before he got to her, but with only a few feet left and no sign of him stopping, she just got out of his way and let him have the bag.

"You have to slide, Mr. Cooper," Pop warned him sternly.

"Sorry, Pop," Hal replied.

He'd never have actually run her over, but she didn't have to know that. It got him the bag and the look of pride on FP's face made the minor scolding from Pop more than worth it. Of course, the first thing he did after soaking in the cheers from his team was to look down to first so he could see Alice. She had her hand over her mouth. He was sure she was trying to cover up a smile.

With two runners on base and no outs, this was the guys' big chance. Tom Keller was up next and he was ready. FP's only worry was that somebody would do something stupid again and blow the whole thing.

Tom got up to the plate and did a few stretches. He touched the tip of his bat to the outside edge of the plate, squatted down, and then stood and put the bat horizontally behind his shoulders to stretch his back. This was Tom's typical at-bat ritual and anyone who'd seen him play for the school knew this, but Hermione was getting impatient.

She shrugged off Robin's signal for a fastball until she agreed to her infamous curve. She had yet to strike out any of the guys and was determined to make Tom Keller her first.

Winding up, she set her fingers in the pattern she'd learned for the curveball, but at the last second she slipped and it ended up coming in way inside. Tom tried to get out of the way, but he still caught the ball in the hip.

The boys were booing from the dugout and Pop made sure Tom was ok before he sent him down to first. FP wished it had been Fred who got drilled because he knew he'd play it up for sympathy from the girls, but Tom wasn't about to let them think he was hurt.

FP also wished they were at the top of the order now instead of the bottom. The show Hal and Jerry put on did a lot for moral, but it wasn't going to make up for the fact that bases were loaded with their, arguably, two worst hitters up to bat.

Myles did his best, but he popped it straight to Mary who caught it with no problem. Everyone tagged up, but no run scored. With bases still loaded, Hiram was finally going to see his first at-bat.

While Myles was up, FP was trying to decide what to have Hiram do. He really wanted to tell him to stand as close to the plate as possible hoping that Hermione would drill him too, but he knew Fred would have a fit. Hiram wasn't Fred's favorite person either, but he wouldn't go for getting him hurt on purpose. A happy accident, maybe, but not because they told him to stand close. The next best option was to try to get him to walk. A walk would bring in a run just the same.

"Don't swing," FP whispered to him just before he left the on-deck circle. "Just stand there with your bat on your shoulder and don't swing."

"But aren't I supposed to--"

"Don't. Swing."

"Batter up!" Pop called.

Hiram was still a bit fuzzy on all the rules, and had absolutely no clue about strategy of any kind, but he was fairly certain you weren't supposed to just stand at the plate and do nothing. Surely FP was just afraid he couldn't do it. Well, Hiram Lodge intended to prove him wrong.

Sauntering up to the plate, he tapped the far edge just as he'd seen Tom do. He was laser focused and determined. Knees bent ever so slightly. Elbow up. Eyes on the ball.

" _Don't swing. Don't swing. Don't swing_ ," FP whispered to himself as Hermione began her windup.

As the ball reached the plate, Hiram swung as hard as he could. It was a beautiful swing. If it had been anyone else, FP would have admitted as much, but under the circumstances he was furious. The ball was a good foot too high and there was no way, especially with a beautiful, hard, but perfectly level swing, that Hiram was going to hit it.

"What the hell is he swinging at?" Fred bellowed.

"I told him not to! I'm gonna--"  


"What?"

"If he walks, we score," FP told Fred. "He's more likely to walk than get a hit anyway."

While FP and Fred were debating the odds of Hiram actually being able to hit something, and Fred questioning whether telling him to stand there and hope for a walk was the best idea, Hermione was developing a plan. For months now she'd been seeing both Fred and Hiram on and off and knew she could use her flirting to wrap this inning up nicely.

"That was a nice swing, Hiram," she called to him as he got ready to step back into the box. "Be ready out there, Sierra. This next one's gonna be coming your way."

It was working. Hiram straightened way up and puffed out his chest. He tapped the edge of the plate again and twisted his front foot in the dirt. He was ready this time, and he was going to swing as hard as he could. If Hermione was impressed by that last one, she was in for a real treat this time. The sound of FP's voice, joined by Fred's now, begging him not to swing had no chance of reaching him. All he could hear was Hermione's praise that was bound to come when he hit one over the fence.

As the ball whizzed by, way too high again, Hiram swung with all his strength and missed it by a mile.

"Aww, you'll get the next one for sure," Hermione called to him.

The girls were laughing so hard they were wiping tears from their eyes and Hal had to shove Marilyn off of him because she kept trying to lean against him at third to keep from falling over.

"What do we do now?" Fred whispered to FP. "If we tell him not to swing, she'll throw a strike for sure."

"It doesn't matter," FP replied through gritted teeth. "You're up next. Knock it over the fence and then we'll see who's laughing."

Fred swallowed hard. Nothing like a bit of pressure to make a guy feel confident.

Hiram kept looking over at the dugout for some sort of sign of what he should do. Not getting anything, he stepped up to the plate. As much as he still wanted to hit a homerun and show the girls he wasn't a fool, he was far less confident that he could actually do it.

He knew he shouldn't have done it, but as he saw the ball coming toward him, Hiram closed his eyes. Swinging as hard as he could, he connected. Throwing his eyes open, he scanned the field for the ball. It landed just to Hermione's left.

" _That sucks_ ," Hiram thought to himself. " _It didn't even make it to the grass_."

"DAMNIT! RUN, HIRAM!" FP yelled, pulling him out of his internal moping.

Hermione, seeing Hiram still standing dumbfounded at the plate, figured they could turn a double play. Marilyn had talked about them briefly in practice that week. Scooping up the ball, she threw it to Alice as fast as she could.

"She went to first!" Myles yelled from the dugout. "Get in there, Hal!"

Hal was running as fast as his legs would carry him. Under normal circumstances, there would have been no way he'd make it home with the ball so close to the plate, but since Hermione went to first instead of the force out at home, he had a shot if he could beat Alice's throw.

Hermione's throw was perfect, but Alice wasn't expecting it to come to her. She caught it just fine and made the out at first, but she didn't have time to get the force out at home.

The score was tied one to one, but Hiram wasn't feeling the joy his teammates were. Despite their cheering, mostly for Hal who was sporting a huge grin, Hiram's head was hanging low.

"Chin up there, Lodge," FP said, slapping him on the back. "You managed to make the worst grounder in the history of baseball into a success story."

Hiram gave FP a dirty look. "Well," he said, loud enough for Fred to hear, "at least I didn't strike out. Right, Andrews?"

Fred knew Hiram was trying to psych him out. If he struck out, it'd make Hiram's flub look a little better.

"I wouldn't know, Hiram," he said, taking one last practice swing. "Unlike you, I've never struck out with Hermione before."  

He made sure to keep a straight face until he was close enough to the plate that Hiram couldn't see him smile. He could almost feel the daggers Hiram's glare was shooting into his back.

That dig was what he needed. His confidence was soaring. Fred Andrews, captain of the baseball team, comeback king, was going to hit a homerun, bring in two runners, and win the game. As he stepped up to the plate, got ready, and looked up at the pitcher, all of it faded. Hermione Reyes was standing there, glove between her knees, fixing her hair. That beautiful dark hair was his weakness. His kryptonite. He was doomed.

"Come on, Freddie," FP bellowed from the dugout. "Knock it out of the park."

"Focus, Fred," he whispered to himself. "Focus."

"You alright there, Andrews?" Robin asked from behind him. "Having some trouble keeping your mind on the game?"

"I'm, fine," Fred answered as the ball, low, came whizzing into Robin's glove. "Tell your pitcher she needs to give me something I can hit."

Robin laughed. "Oh, I'll get right on that."

She asked Pop for a time out and jogged to Hermione at the mound. They had their gloves covering their faces as they talked, but Fred knew, without a doubt, that they were talking about him. The giggling was a dead giveaway. Robin had a huge grin on her face as she marched back to the plate.

When Fred stepped into the box, it didn't take long to see what the chatting had been about. Hermione took her hat off, sat it on the ground, and took her hair completely out of her ponytail. There was just enough breeze that her hair flowed behind her, keeping it out of her face.

"Good luck," Robin whispered to Fred as Hermione wound up for her second pitch.

Fred was so focused on trying to stay focused that he swung way too early and missed the ball completely.

"Strike one," Pop called.

FP was pacing in the dugout. "How is he supposed to hit the ball with..." His voice trailed off as he rolled his eyes.

 

Just as Fred got set for the next pitch, determined not to let Hermione get to him, Robin and Hermione enacted the second part of the "strike out Fred" plan.

"Oh crap," Hermione exclaimed, bending down slowly. "My hat's gonna blow away!" She slid her hands down her legs, sticking her butt out much further than necessary.

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" FP shouted. "Pop, can we please just keep things moving here?"

Unfortunately for him, Robin had been talking to Pop to keep him from seeing what Hermione was doing, so FP's plea was a lost cause. The plan, however, was two for two as Fred fouled one off toward first base.

"TIME OUT!" FP yelled, storming out of the dugout.

Pop called the time out, but warned FP to keep it short. "We've got to get this game over before the sun goes down, gentlemen," he said.

FP was about to lose it.

"What the heck is going on?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," Fred replied, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know-"

"It's those damn girls," FP interrupted. "They can't win fair and square, so they're gonna..." He sighed, shaking his head. "We're just going to have to buckle down. You have to get on, Freddie. You have to."

 "I will," Fred assured him. "I promise."

Stepping back up to the plate, Fred took a deep breath. He'd never let FP down before, and he wasn't about to do it now. He blocked out everything but the ball and the feel of the bat in his hands.

The pitch was far from perfect, but Fred didn't care. The whole dugout was silent as they watched the ball soar over Mary's head. Over Sierra's head. Over the fence.

"He did it," FP breathed, a huge smile spreading across his face. "YOU DID IT, FREDDIE!"

Coming around second, arms raised in the air, Fred shot FP a huge grin. As soon as he crossed the plate, the whole team was waiting for him and FP was first in line. It wasn't a grand slam, but it was three more runs, putting the guys ahead by three.

"Keep it going now, Rick! Let's go Mantle!" the guys called as he stepped up to the plate.

Rick hit the first pitch Hermione threw him, but Gladys fielded it easily and threw him out at first.

"It's alright. It's alright," FP assured him. "We had a good half now let's get out there and keep those bases clear!"

Before Fred had a chance to leave the dugout, FP stopped him.

"Fred...," he hesitated, trying to choose his words wisely, "are you gonna make it through this game?" When Fred seemed confused, he continued. "If Hermione is starting that shit already, it's gonna be a long game if you can't ignore it."

"I think I proved I can't handle myself just fine, FP," Fred replied gruffly. He stormed past him and out to the mound.

Fred thought this whole game was a dumb idea from the start. And it was FP's dumb idea. Now here he was having to choose between FP and Hermione. Up until this point, things were easy. He and Hermione had their thing, whatever it was, but it didn't interfere with FP. But this stupid game was threatening to bring the whole thing to a grinding halt. Win the game and miss the chance to take Hermione out on a real date. Lose the game and let FP down.

The pressure everyone was putting on him wasn't helping either. _Smack_. Hal was being all googly-eyes with Alice and no one was saying anything about that. _Smack_. It wasn't his fault that Hermione was playing dirty. _Smack._ And what about FP? If he hadn't been so cocky and showing off in Pop's that night they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

 _Smack_. Another pitch slammed into FP's glove.

"Hey, Fred," he called from behind the plate. "You wanna take it easy? I appreciate the fastballs, but how 'bout we save some juice for the ones that count!"

Fred shook out his shoulder and nodded. Getting upset wasn't going to help him focus. He just needed to get this game over.

The girls were back at the top of the order, so Alice stepped up to the plate. With the score four to one, she was more determined than ever to do her job as lead-off and get on base.

Fred took a deep breath. _Just pitch the ball. Just pitch the ball. Whatever happens, happens._

The crack of the bat sent a line drive right between Jerry and Tom. Alice just made it to the bag in time to beat Hiram's throw. None of the guys were thrilled about a base hit on the first pitch, but they all congratulated Hiram nonetheless that he at least fielded the ball cleanly and made a halfway decent throw to Tom at first.

It was FP's turn to take a deep breath now. Hermione was up and he was hoping she'd given up her antics from earlier. At the very least he was determined to make sure Pop saw it this time.

"You got everything situated and secured now, Reyes?"

"Don't you worry about it, Jones," she snapped back. "You better focus on how you're going to pay for my milkshake tomorrow."

FP scoffed and squatted down. " _Shut her down, Fred_ ," he thought as he flashed him their sign for a fastball. " _Show her what you got_."

Fred came through. The ball whizzed by Hermione and, although she swung, it was way too late. FP flashed Fred a slider signal for the next pitch, but Fred waved him off. In fact, he waved off every signal FP gave him until he got the one he wanted: the fastball. Just like the first one, the ball was snapping into FP's glove before Hermione had a chance to hit it.

This time, FP didn't waste time going through other signals; he threw up the fastball sign and held on. She was going to be expecting it now, so Fred was really going to have to bring it.

" _This is it, Freddie_ ," FP thought. " _These girls've got nothing on us._ "

Fred was in the zone. One more pitch. One pitch at a time. He wound up and threw as hard as he possibly could.

Alice, watching from first, swore she saw Hermione shut her eyes as she swung. Regardless, when she made contact, it was the most beautiful swing Alice had ever seen. She left first base like lightning, sure she'd be around third before the ball even made it to the fence. Little did she know, Fred's sense of self preservation would change her plans.

The ball came off of Hermione's bat at what seemed like a thousand miles an hour. Fred didn't even have time to think about what to do. He instinctively threw up his glove just in time to catch the ball before it hit him square in the chest. It was FP's screaming and jumping up and down that brought him out of his shock.

"FIRST!" he was screaming. "GET HER AT FIRST!"

Alice was so sure the ball was gone, she was all the way to second before she realized Fred caught it. Spinning around, she scrambled to get back and tag up. If Fred had hesitated any longer she may have made it, but he got the ball there just in time.

"That's how you do it, gentlemen!" Tom yelled. "Two down!"

Fred got lucky and he knew it. Hermione sulked back to the bench followed closely by Alice. The attitude in the girl's dugout was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Fred could tell the girls were really buckling down. With Mary up, he was going to need a strategy better than frustration-backed fastballs. He motioned for FP to come to the mound.

"You're hot, Freddie!" he exclaimed, slapping Fred on the shoulder.

Fred hung his head, but grinned. "Not here, man," he whispered factiously, rubbing the toe of his cleat in the dirt.

FP laughed, blushing a bit. "You know what I mean... We've got this. You've got this."

"I wish you hadn't made that stupid bet, man."

"I know... but you know how it is... And besides, we're gonna win. We're up and you're gonna take Mary down right here."

"What if I don't, FP?... What if..."

"Don't worry about it, Fred. There are nine of us out here. Well... like seven. Some of these guys don't count as a whole." They both laughed at this. "But we're all in it together. The girls came to play, I'll give 'em that. But they can't win. We want it more."

Fred nodded. That was it. If Hermione would only go out with him if they lost, he wasn't so sure she was worth it. The guys standing behind him were at least _more_ worth it. No more distractions.

When Mary stepped up to the plate, she didn't have a prayer. Three pitches and the inning was over. Fred Andrews was going to win this game. Not for milkshakes. Not for bragging rights. For eight other guys who were counting on him. And for FP Jones.


End file.
